


Dry Ink and a Pen

by 9amuro (orphan_account)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Disabled Character, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin) Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 12:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15315252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/9amuro
Summary: Prompt: A mute reader grapples with her place in this cruel and beautiful world. Levi is captivated.





	1. enter levi

**Author's Note:**

> I spend most of the first chapter talking about the setting and disabilities in the canon snk verse, I feel like that's often glazed over sksihs.. enjoy!!

It’s embarrassingly plain how inadequate language is. The human voice is quite the instrument – Levi’s is like a piece of silk you’d keep in your pocket and only pull on sometimes, just to feel the softness on your skin.

It was odd, being on the front lines. You weren’t helpless by any means, but it was natural others always seemed to assume you to be below them. In a world where everyone speaks, it was hard for others to empathize with you in the first place, and ever since your childhood you were left to your own devices. Trapped in your own mind, if you will.

A cruel world that confined you to walls and a robust lack of recourses lead you to join the army. It was ironic, sure, but at least you’d get your rights covered by the state and wouldn’t have to live in the fields - although you weren’t keen on joining the Survey Corps until an impulse overcame you - an impulse that said “you’re strong, more capable of making a difference than anyone here!”

The fire cackled.

And you stayed.

Why do you always get yourself in these situations?

Training was an issue in and of itself, as people questioned your abilities and assumed you below them. The Survey Corps was an entirely different beast, as they were so short on recruits and seemed to have no concern with ability.

You’re deaf? Man the canons, fire signal flares.

Missing a limb? Nothing out of the ordinary here, do paperwork and help prosthetic research.

Blind in one eye? Stay on the opposide side of the formation.

These guys really just didn’t care as long as you were capable of fucking shit up. The life was far from ideal, but at least you were no longer completely an outcast.

You could effectively communicate through gestures and sign language, and carried a notepad around. You enjoyed doodling on it, particularly during stressful situations.

Erwin had received word of a group of thugs using 3DMG one day, and next thing you knew there were three young bodies being held down before you by Mike.

You kind of enjoyed the power trip, “no one man” and all that.

You scratched little drawings upon your notepad having already done your job here - the bad guys were in custody and you had effectively trapped them. You peeked out behind Erwin’s arm every few minutes, but couldn’t be concerned with what was happening.

“- and we’ve no interest in joining the Survey Corps, so write that on your little clipboard!”

Hazel eyes shadowed by dirty blonde hair caught yours for a moment before you stepped out in front of Erwin with a bitten back grin.

You began to sign shaking your head, “I’m not really writing anything down, there’s no need to. I’m drawing your friend here trying to climb up a tire swing, do you want to see?”

Hanji opened her mouth to translate, but you noticed the confused (and maybe a little bit appalled) look on all three of their faces. The girl pursed her lips. Could they - understand what you were saying?

“No, I think I’m fine without seeing, thanks,” the most inrediculous look on his face. He was polite, despite cutting Hanji off. the blonde shook his head and continued to communicate with the others. He kind of reminded you of a golden retriever, and the black haired man you were drawing was kind of like a cat. There was no friendly demeanor about him, compared to his companions, but you still wanted to poke and prod.

A month had passed since taking those three in, and you had learned that your condition was no rarity in the underground - it was natural in your classist society for the disabled to be pummeled to the bottom of the barrel without being given help and recourses first. All three of them were rather fluent in sign language, just because it was so important to accommodate for everyone in the underground.

All three of them made for enjoyable company, you thought, and they were definitely interesting. You couldn’t change how other people treated them, sure, but you could still be a friendly face who could help accommodate them.

Compared to Erwin and Hanji who waited until the last three hours to complete their duties, you preferred to have everthing done, enjoying your down time. You spent most of it showing your new friends around the castle, explaining your botanical research and what everything was. As someone who couldn’t speak, you took great pleasure in raw aesthetic, your eye was astute.

You had wandered to the library one day after work was complete, to find him waiting for you, the cat. You two had gotten along actually, he liked the way you never took anything for granted. He was seated with his legs stretched out along two chairs, a leather bound book in hand. He looked up at you briefly, eyes raking over you. He spared a nod, to which you waved rather enthusiastically.

“What are you reading?” you asked, hands staying relatively close to your chest.

“It’s rather dull, actually, chronicling a history of Wall Rose’s architecture.” He speaks in a somewhat comfortable drawl, sparing another glance at you.

“I quite like architecture, I always wondered where it came from and when it… Ended.” A small grin reaches your lips, wondering how far buildings stretched beyond the haven of the walls.

You end up conversing a bit, about how different things looked underground as opposed to up above, and how the geography stretched along the land. Altitue, flat land, everything you’d always wondered about, he seemed to have an idea. You noticed early on how long he spent looking at each page, but decided not to remark on it, thinking it was likely a sensitive subject. Instead, you showed him your idle drawings of the adventures of a pug resting on a windowsill (apparently he loves dogs) and he tried to draw a man named “John Ruskin,” based on a description in his book. It was terrible, but you gushed over it anyway.

The day ended with you strolling along the fortresses perimeter side by side, admiring the valley’s stretching out below you.

“The sky is pink,” you told him, “that’s when I’m at my happiest.”

He nods in acknowledgement.

He doesn’t have a shadow that day.


	2. bad handwriting

Have you head? Rogues from the underground have been conscripted into the leigon!

Upcoming expedition to test the new recruits, how exciting!

Well, not really, but that’s what everyone wants themselves to think.

It kind of feels like the blood in your body is turning into stomach bile or something, but you didn’t want to express that.

You couldn’t express to anyone your anxiety, the feeling as though you could drop dead at any moment to anyone, palpitating heart, even if you wanted to. The intimacy of speech was something that was always lost upon you, but you could see. You could admire.

You’ve been spending a lot of time with your newfound trio recently. You taught Farlan to grow sunflowers, and Isabel and Levi how to tell the time using the sun. You told them, whenever the zephyr of shadows was twice as tall as the objects that cast them, to meet you in the library.

Usually only Levi showed up.

(Isabel couldn’t read.)

On the fateful day that you’d expected, where neither of them showed up, you’d sat in your usual spot, legs propped up by the window, when you’d saw it.

Ivan Turgnev’s Fathers and Sons, with a pressed (f/f) sticking out between the pages. You flipped to it, to find an underlined quote, “Whereas I think: I’m lying here in a haystack… The tiny space I occupy is so infinitesimal in comparison with the rest of space, which I don’t occupy and which has no relation to me. And the period of time in which I’m fated to live is so insignificant beside the eternity in which I haven’t existed and won’t exist… And yet in this atom, this mathematical point, blood is circulating, a brain is working, desiring something… What chaos! What a farce!”

It was quite bold, you thought, the line. Was this a flirtation? Your nose twitched up, what a way to do it!

It made you happy, though. Words were always something you thought existed just to mock you, yet, these resonated. They werent empty, these were significant and, honestly, kind of sensual? You liked these kind of words, indeed.

You skipped along back to your quarters today. Even if those words weren’t meant for you, you liked them. You and Isabel stayed up talking about reselling jewels and crime and things like that. She’s really pretty.

Your visit to the library the next day had Levi waiting for you, and a book accompanied your usual seat.

It was Camus, with another (f/f) sticking out. “Basically, at the very bottom of life, which seduces us all, there is only absurdity, and more absurdity. And maybe that’s what gives us our joy for living, because the only thing that can defeat absurdity is lucidity.” Kind of pretentious, but that’s fine.

Your legs were jelly, nonetheless. Levi and you talked about worms and swords, and today he smiled at you.

There was another waiting for you the next day, it was the Mahabharata, more flowers, and was that… a bottle of red currant jam?

“She is a wife who is notable in her house; she is a wife who is obedient to her lord. A wife is the source of his religion, his worldly profit, and his love. He who hath a wife maketh offerings in his house. Those who have wives are blest with good fortune. Wives are friends, who, by their kind and gentle speech, soothe you. In your distresses they are as mothers, and they are refreshment to those who are travellers in the rugged paths of life.”

Levi left early with a touch. Where was his shadow?

There was a strange comfort to the messages tucked between pages, be it Wilde, or Gölkap, there was always something to make you think, and admire. You felt, for once as though feelings were enough.

On a day where the birds rose with sunrise and you envied beams of light, you got a rather ominous message - “The fall of Empire, gentlemen, is a massive thing, however, and not easily fought. It is dictated by a rising bureaucracy, a receding initiative, a freezing of caste, a damming of curiosity—a hundred other factors. It has been going on, as I have said, for centuries, and it is too majestic and massive a movement to stop.”

Foundation, Isaac Asimov.

Do you ever wish you could do something differently?

You contemplated your feelings, skipping and hopping through the halls at night. The dusk had set along the land, and it always smelled like shit, but you felt at peace alone, no company. Shardis had asked you to run some statistics for the upcoming expedition, a long and tedious process that left your legs aching and your mind racing.

It was late, sure, but you were sure he’d be up. Standing in rank, fist clenched to his chest.

You wonder if things would have been different if you’d slept through the night.

Arriving at the office, joint with Erwin’s, you catch sight of a hunched over figure, and a snark of frustration. It combed through every corner of the room, from desk to corner to drawer to trunk.

You didn’t know he was looking for keys to salvation. An adieu to life in an underground prison. Farlan. Isabel. People are counting on Levi.

He was quick and quiet and the only snag in his plan was a pretty girl standing outside the office when he left.

You never liked doors.

He froze like a statue, guilt radiating off him like electromagnetic waves.

It was too dark to sign, but you tried, “Levi, why were you in Squad Leaders office?”

He wasn’t paying attention. Your curious eyes, he interpreted as accusing, and every defensive instinct he’d learned from the underground kicked in. You saw the misty look on his face, and took a step back, which he interpreted as running.

Next thing you know, your arm was being twisted and you couldn’t yelp in pain, and your back hit an aclove in the wall. The man who had been your friend and drank tea and drawn with you had your arms and the coldest pair of eyes you’d ever seen.

“You stupid brat - how long have you been there watching?”

Was this guy an idiot? He had your arms!

You struggled to let yourself free so you could explain yourself, but his grip tightened. You didn’t give up though, and he pinned you further, forearm against your throat. You couldn’t breathe.

There were footsteps coming up, a savior? You struggled even harder when you heard - “don’t even think about it.” The words dragged against you like a knife. You wanted to cry.

“Is someone here?” It was Erwin, just around the corner, and approaching fast.

Levi gritted his teeth, he wasn’t about to get compromised. 

He stared at you with a look that promised the worst time of your life if you didn’t submit for a few seconds more. You felt the arm against your throat pull back, felt an arm wrap around the small of your waist, pulling you in and another around your cheeks restricting you. There was a mouth on yours that held fast.

It was a ruse, you knew, when Erwin came by he would mistake this as passion between lovers.

“Ah, both of you,” his baritone reverberated in the hall, “this.. isn’t quite the place for that.”

“Tch,” Levi was back on his cold and introspective demeanor, “sorry, we didn’t mean to do that here, right, (Y/N)?”

You had been used.

You hold out your arms to Erwin, research paper still in hand, and resisted the urge to bolt.

“Thank you. Dismissed.”

No matter how much you thought these people were your friends, they had their own plan. It was foolish of you to believe.

“If you so much as whisper a word to anyone,’ his face is apathy, "you’re done for.”

Your face is tear stained, there are no jokes to make with your hands, despite how many swim in your head. Failed by your own coping method.

You shakily nod, and run.

Levi’s primal instincts were winding down at last. Panic is over, victory! He had the upper hand, he silenced his foe. This was disabling the threat. Diplomacy had its uses, but violence and intimidation tactics had been his best used tools all his life. He forced a smile, who knew fear existed on the surface, too?

And then he remembers your tear stained face, and remember how you struggled with your hands. You were trying to communicate, he recognized now.

He pressed his mouth to his lips, still itching from the contact with yours.

“She shouldn’t have been there, it had to be done…”

Shit.

Levi, what have you done?

This wasn’t the underground. You weren’t a theif or a killer, you were a victim of a cruel system that forced you to join the military, same as him. You were the same. You couldn’t hurt him, it wasn’t in your nature, and he took advantage of just why. You taught him how to tell time and taught him tricks for sounding out letters, and read War and Peace to him. He gave you flowers and you liked to look at things, same as him.

No, that wasn’t right. You were an innocent victim, he was a criminal, a good for nothing. He didn’t want to escape into more killing, he wanted to live an earnest life with Isabel and Farlan, and he wanted to learn how to do it with you. You were even going to teach him how to grow vegetables.

But he didn’t deserve it, not after today.

//

Isabel was the only person that met you in the library. The notes stopped. You kept to yourself, as usual, no one asked you why your eyes were puffy from crying, except for Isabel.

“Are you okay?” She asked, “your eyes are puffy.” She trailed after you constantly. How much of that innocent was real, or was it a facade, too?

Didn’t matter.

You got one note after that, rather than a book. It had a bad drawing of a cat on a tire swing on it, and your favorite flower.

“Sorry.”

So, it was him.


	3. don't hold your utensil like that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope I got this right? Their relationship is kinda rushed here I hope that's okay aa

In hindsight, you thought, slinking in the rain, you should have figured it out a lot earlier. Foundation and Levi’s little stunt all in the same day. What a strange person you are.

The expedition was an absolute failure, but Levi had saved your life. His friends had not been so lucky. You were going to miss your golden retriever and little ferret, very dearly. You let the two of them into your own little world, and they had left theirs far too fast. You thought your sobs sounded hideous.

Levi’s eyes had a new resolve in them, later that day.

You stood across from him, Asimov tucked behind your arm, a melancholy smile on your face.

He was frowning. He had his angel back, but at what cost?

“Expeditions aren’t usually that bad.” Your hands were constricted to your chest again. You had seen mourning before, you had done plenty of it. Levi and his friends were very close, you could tell, they were partners in crime. It didn’t matter if he was an ally or not, he didn’t deserve that. No one does.

And you still held him dearly, actually. He still had your heart, how could he not after all those months? You understood now, after he laid it all out for Erwin. You probably would have done the same thing, actually, and you definitely would have failed. He would do what it takes for survive.

“I am sorry, (Y/N).” He says.

“Don’t apologize when you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.” You smile passively.

He walks across the table and gives you a sweet embrace. You feel a drop of water, but the rain cleared up hours ago. Yes, you wanted his arms around you in dear comfort, but not like this.

“Ah, (Y/N),” he doesn’t have his usual apathy about him, why is that? “Could you kiss me?”

You freeze.

You had seen mourning before, even done it yourself.

You wanted a kiss too, you wanted so much more, but not like this.

You wanted to be a memory, not a way for him to forget.

You didn’t want to be a regret, and if he kissed you now, you were sure he would regret it.

You step back, your hands rested lightly on his shoulders. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he states quickly, “and I’ve decided today I’m going to believe in every choice I make. Sometimes I will rely on my friends, and sometimes myself. And I would never regret you.”

Those words make sense somehow. Make a choice with no regrets, that’s fair. Perhaps you should live the same.

You haven’t done this much, but worth a shot, right?

“E-ayee I,” you feel pins and needles in your throat, “lauff ee-you, Leeeevayi.”

Your voice is, clunky and you dislike it, but if he will not take you how you are, or anyway you present yourself, he should not have you at all.

He smiles, full on, he loves his angel so much, so dearly! - and places his thumb on your lip, brushing it a couple times. He splays a light kiss on your forehead and sits down at his desk.

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

You spend the rest of the evening sharing memories, even making some new ones.

You agree to teaching him how to garden.


End file.
